


Snow White

by subtlehysteria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I re-read this and I'm honestly so melodramatic, Light Angst, White-haired Keith, set during season 2, they/them pronouns for Pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 21:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12690252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: “Keith!” Coran said, unfazed as he walked through the sliding door. “I was wanting to ask –” Coran stopped mid-sentence, his eyes focusing on Keith’s face, or rather, his hair.His roots were beginning to show through the dye, causing a streak of white to blossom across the crown of his head.Keith ducked his head, but he knew it was pointless. Coran had seen.Keith's hair is beginning to grow out, and people are starting to notice.





	Snow White

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just me writing down thoughts about how team Voltron would react to Keith's hair naturally being white. There's mild Klance but nothing major, more like little hints at feelings beginning to blossom.

Keith was trying very hard not to scream. He kept hoping that this was a dream, that he’d wake up and realize that none of it was true. But after pinching himself and tugging at his hair, even going so far as to give himself a slap in the face, he did not wake up.

Keith chucked the small hand-held mirror he'd borrowed from Lance onto his bed. He could feel anger beginning to gather low in his stomach, wanting to burst out. He opted for throwing his knife at the wall instead. It flew through the air, tip over tail until it embedded itself in the wall with a dull _thud._ He had just missed Coran’s face. 

“Keith!” Coran said, unfazed as he walked through the sliding door. “I was wanting to ask –” Coran stopped mid-sentence, his eyes focusing on Keith’s face, or rather, his hair.

His roots were beginning to show through the dye, causing a streak of white to blossom across the crown of his head. 

Keith ducked his head, but he knew it was pointless. Coran had seen. 

Coran said nothing for a while and then, “I knew, you know.”

Keith met Coran’s gaze. There was a soft smile playing at the corners of Coran’s mouth.

“The scanner, from when you first entered the castle. I decided to re-check it after the whole Blade-of-Marmora-Galra-Heritage situation. It said your natural hair colour was white. I didn’t say anything because, well,” Coran made a vague gesture. “Obviously, it’s not something you want as common knowledge.”

Keith sighed. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat. “Yeah, it... it’s always been a problem. I started dying it when I was twelve. Teased and all that shit,” Keith muttered. He could still remember the stupid nicknames the older kids gave him. Snowflake, lab rat. His absolute _favourite_ was Snow White. What a riot. 

“Dye?” Coran asked. 

Keith nodded. “A colourant? It’s sort of like a shampoo that changes your hair colour. I usually just used cheap box black, but being in space...” Keith trailed off with a shrug. “I highly doubt there’s an Altean equivalent?” 

Coran scrunched his nose up in thought. His moustache quivered.

“I’m afraid not, Keith,” he said with a sigh.

Keith tried not to let the disappointment show too much on his face. He’d still had a sliver of hope, but it was too much to ask for he supposed.

“I can try and whip up a concoction if you like?” Coran suggested. He pinched his moustache, twirling the edges between his fingers. “I was quite the dabbler in the art of cosmetics back in the day.”

Keith stifled a laugh, covering it up with a cough. “Uh, yeah, no, it’s okay Coran. I guessed this would have to happen eventually. Just... I kinda wanted it to be on my own terms, you know?”

Coran gave a soft smile. Not sympathetic or pitying just... a small comfort. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you.” 

Keith didn’t say anything, he didn’t know how to reply. Coran seemed to understand as he turned on his heel and headed out the sliding door. 

Just as quickly, though, he popped back in and pointed at Keith’s knife, which was still stuck in the wall.

“Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t maul the last remaining Altean ship in the galaxy, thank you!”

Keith couldn’t help but chuckle as Coran bounced off into the hallway. 

***

“Uh, Keith?”

Keith looked up from his plate. It was well past Varga 01:00, and he couldn’t sleep, as usual. He’d decided to make himself the space equivalent of a midnight snack. Apparently, Hunk had the same idea.

“Yeah?” Keith asked, taking another bite of his what was supposed to resemble a sandwich. 

“You’ve got um,” Hunk indicated the top of his head. “I think you’ve got something in your hair.”

Keith reached up, fingering his hair. When he brought his hand down for inspection, there was nothing on his fingertips. 

Keith sighed. “It’s my hair.”

“Yeah, I know but there’s something white –”

“Hunk,” Keith said, looking Hunk dead in the eye, “It’s. My. Hair.” 

Hunk’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. 

“No,” he said, after an awkwardly long pause. “Seriously?”

Keith nodded. He tried to take another bite of his somewhat-sandwich but he suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. Regrettably, Keith placed the half-finished sandwich back on his plate and started to get up. 

“No but wait,” Hunk said, stepping further into the room. Keith could make out a few more details now that Hunk had stepped into the light. He was in his yellow pyjamas, his hair a mess without his usual headband. He was carrying what looked to be a hot water bottle. Keith made a mental reminder to ask Coran if he had another. 

“You’re joking, right? Because, like, your hair’s black. It’s black, it always has been. Well, actually, some people would probably argue that it’s dark brown but –”

“Hunk,” Keith gritted out. 

Hunk stopped, his jaw shutting with a loud _clack_.

Keith took a deep, steadying breath. Hunk was always one to ramble, especially when he was trying to make sense of things. It reminded Keith of Pidge a little, how their curiosity would take over and their thought process would sort of malfunction. Just the other day Keith had got up and left during one of their never-ending rants about some or other space technology and when he came back half a Varga later, they were still at it. It was a trait Hunk and Pidge seemed to share.

Keith tried to cool his temper. He didn’t want to snap at Hunk, especially since their friendship was still a little tentative. 

“My roots are starting to grow out, that’s all.”

Hunk looked like he wanted to ask a billion questions but instead, he pointed at Keith’s half-eaten sandwich and said, “Are you going to finish that?”

Keith arched a brow but offered the plate to Hunk. 

“I can’t promise it’ll be to your liking but –”

Hunk took a massive bite, chewing loudly. He then stopped and moaned. Actually _moaned._

“Holy quiznak,” he said, taking another bite. “Keith? This is really good, like, really _really_ good. What did you put in here?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know, I kinda just took what looked edible and slapped it on there.”

Hunk swallowed the last bite of sandwich, licking his fingers. “Okay, well, no. You’re showing me exactly what you did because this masterpiece is so not gonna be a one-time thing.”

And that’s how Keith ended up spending over a Varga trying to re-create an alien sandwich, much to his amusement and Hunk’s frustration. 

***

He’d just finished a training session with the simulator when he bumped into Allura. 

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, too tired to try and function socially. He’d really pushed it today and he had a feeling that once his face hit the pillow, he wasn’t going to get up anytime soon.

“It’s alright I –” Allura stopped, turning to face Keith properly. She took a step closer, raising a hand, almost unconsciously.

Keith already knew what was coming.

“You’re hair, it’s –”

“Yes, I know,” Keith said, trying not to sound too irritable. He was tired and a little stressed what with all the recent Galra attacks. They were out in the field almost every other day now, having barely any time to do anything other than sleep or eat. This was the first day Keith had had to himself in what felt like weeks. Who knew, it could have been months. 

Allura retracted her hand. Keith couldn’t blame her for wanting to touch it. It looked surreal up close. The white was becoming more noticeable, engulfing the top of his head. A few white strands were leaking into his fringe. 

“Ah,” she said, taken aback. Keith shut his eyes. He could just imagine the look in Allura's eyes, the look Keith hoped he’d never have to see on Allura’s face again. Perplexity, contempt. Disgust.

Keith pinched his lips together in frustration. “Go on,” he said. 

“Go on what?” Allura asked, eyes narrowing in confusion. 

“Tell me how much I look like them.”

“Like who?”

“The Galra.” 

Allura visibly flinched. “Keith, I –”

“It’s what you’re thinking isn’t it?” Keith spat. He didn’t really know if he was angry at Allura or angry at himself, but that didn’t stop the storm from broiling in his chest. This was why he’d dyed his hair for all those years. Because of that look, because of the questions poised on people’s tongues.

_What’s wrong with him? Did something happen to him when he was younger? Is that natural?_

Keith could never answer that last one. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. 

“Keith,” Allura said, slow and steady. Her pink/blue eyes were shining with determination. “I know that in the past I treated you unfairly. I apologized and I hope you still believe me when I say that I do not associate you with the past. You are not them. You are not Zarkon or his followers. You are Keith. And if Keith happens to have white hair then,” she shrugged, “so be it.”

Keith blinked. Then blinked again for good measure.

He ducked his head, hoping to hide behind his fringe. Why did he always do this? Why did he always assume the worst of people?

Allura gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. She cleared her throat.

“For the record, I think you might suit it.”

Keith looked up. Allura was biting her bottom lip, her cheeks beginning to go pink, almost matching her markings.

Keith rubbed the back of his neck, not fully meeting Allura’s eyes. “Uh, thanks.”

Allura nodded. They stood in a moment of silence, the only sounds being the soft humming of the inner workings of the castle.

Keith cleared his throat. “I think Imma, ahem, I’ll head to my room.”

“Yes, of course,” Allura said. They exchanged polite nods and started down opposite sides of the hallway.

Keith was just about to enter his room when he heard Allura call out to him.

“Pardon?” He said, catching her eye.

“I said, don’t use anything Coran offers you. All I can say is it won’t end well.” Allura shivered at the memory before continuing down the hallway, leaving a bemused Keith in her wake.

***

“So it’s true?”

Keith startled. He unsheathed his dagger, holding it at the ready in less than a tick, only to find an amused Pidge at the tip of his blade.

Keith stepped back, taking his dagger along with him.

“Pidge,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. He sheathed his dagger. “You scared me.”

Pidge’s eyebrows disappeared into their hairline. “I scared you?”

“Well don’t go telling anyone,” Keith said, trying to sound threatening although they both knew he was joking.

Over the last few months, Keith and Pidge had gotten… not close but rather well-acquainted. They actually had more things in common than they’d first realized. They had a similar sense of humour, dry and sharp, and, not so surprisingly, both were conspiracy theory fanatics. On late nights after a hard day’s work, when everyone else had gone to sleep, Keith and Pidge would still be up talking in the common room, firing theories at one another and arguing why theirs was correct and the other’s horribly wrong.

Suffice to say, Keith had taken a liking to the child genius. They were unlikely friends, but, it worked.

“Yep,” Keith said, not even bothering to ask what they were talking about. At this point, questions about his hair had become routine – mostly thanks to Hunk. Every day there was a new set of questions, each more ridiculous than the last. And every day Keith would answer in the negative, much to Hunk’s disappointment.

Pidge cleared their throat, bringing Keith back to the observatory. What was he doing here again? Right, he wanted to sit somewhere quiet because he couldn’t sleep (again) and then Pidge had practically given him a heart attack. So, the usual.

Pidge shared a look with Keith, beckoning him to come closer. Keith obliged only to have his head yanked down to Pidge’s height so they could take a closer inspection.

“Fascinating,” they said, twisting Keith’s head at uncomfortable angles. “Is it not a form of albinism?”

“Nope,” he said, wincing a little when Pidge angled his head a little too far to the right. If they weren’t careful, his neck was going to snap.

“You sure?” Pidge asked, completely unaware of Keith’s suffering.

“Positive. Now if you could maybe let me go? My neck is aching.”

Pidge huffed but let go.

“Thank you,” Keith mumbled. He straightened up a little too quickly, causing his head to spin, but otherwise, his neck was still intact.

“So it’s just your hair?”

“Yep.”

“And your eyelashes and eyebrows?”

Shit. He hadn’t thought of that. White hair was one thing, nearly translucent eyelashes and eyebrows were another. Keith internally winced.

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

Pidge hummed, cupping their chin in thought. “And your eyes?”

“What about them?”

“Well, they’re weird.”

Keith scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, one minute they’re navy and the next they’re, like, dark purple. So maybe that’s also part of the Galra gig.”

Keith felt his brain stop working. Then, slowly, it began to reboot, recovering all the facts and information.

He’d never thought about it that way. Keith didn’t really take stock of appearances, his hair being the only exception. He just didn’t have the time. There were other, more important things to consider, like whether someone was a threat or not, if he could beat them in a fight. If they were trustworthy.

“I’ve never really –”

“It’s just a speculation,” Pidge said, adjusting their glasses. “But if you want, I could compile some data? Maybe see if there are a few connections?”

Keith felt his face scrunch up in confusion. He must have looked like he just sucked an entire lemon. “What?”

“Well, it will take some time, but there’s got to be some Galra hybrids around the galaxy. I mean, they’re practically everywhere and I don’t know exactly how their courting rituals go but –”

Keith waved a frantic hand, spluttering for Pidge to please, just _stop_. “No ‘birds and the bees’ speculations, thanks.”

“Sorry,” Pidge said, giving Keith a sheepish grin. “So, what do you say?”

“To what?”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “To me compiling some data?”

Keith hesitated for a moment, the word _no_ poised on his tongue. But there was a small part of him, the tiny voice he’d been pushing to the back of his skull for as long as he could remember, that begged for answers.

Keith swallowed thickly.

“Uh, well, if, I mean, if you’re okay with it? Cause, I know you’re still scanning for Matt and with all the other stuff you do –”

Pidge snorted, adjusting their glasses again. “Please. Did you honestly think I wasn’t going to do it even if you said no?”

Keith smiled of all things.

“Alright Pidgeon, work your magic.” He offered a hand, which Pidge took. They shook on it.

“Oh and Keith?” Pidge called as Keith made to leave the observatory, the need to sleep pulling him back to his bed. “If you want this alliance to continue," they said, "I suggest you refrain from using patronizing nicknames. You will sorely regret it. Kay?” Keith would have considered it a threat were it not for the mischievous glint in their eye.

“Whatever you say, Pidgeon,” Keith said, sending a backwards wave as the doors slid closed behind him.

***

“Keith?” Keith stopped in his tracks, halfway taking off his helmet. He turned to find Shiro a little ways back. They’d just come back fresh from a fight. Voltron had managed to defeat most of the Galra fleet, the rest hightailing away with their tails between their legs. Everyone considered it a victory, although Keith was still wary. Zarkon seemed more present than ever, making his way towards them one slow, calculated step at a time. It was what kept Keith up at night, besides the usual thoughts and daydreams and nightmares.

Shiro’s head was tilted a little to the side, which meant one thing and one thing only. He was concerned. Big time.

Keith sighed. He felt a lecture coming on.

“Keith? You coming?”

“It’s okay Pidge, I’ll see you later.”

Pidge looked at Keith and Shiro. They seemed to come to a conclusion as they gave a tentative smile and a thumbs up before disappearing after Lance and Hunk.

Keith turned his attention to Shiro. He seemed to be waiting for something.

What felt like Vargas passed although Keith guessed they were only ticks. It was just… awkward. Keith couldn’t remember the last time he felt this uncomfortable in Shiro’s company.

Finally, Shiro cleared his throat. He took off his helmet, almost as an afterthought, before speaking. “When were you going to tell me?”

Ah. Keith had a feeling this might happen.

“To be honest,” Keith said, talking to the floor because there was no way he could look Shiro in the eye when he said, “I wasn’t going to.”

Keith heard a sharp intake of breath. He peeked through his eyelashes to find a dumbfounded Shiro. He looked so… hurt.

Keith immediately felt guilty.

“I just,” Keith sighed. “I was embarrassed and I didn’t want you to think of me differently.”

“Because your hair isn’t black?” Shiro said.

Keith growled. Why didn’t they understand? Why did they never understand?

“Because it isn’t normal!”

Shiro’s eyes darkened. He adjusted his grip on his helmet so it rested on his hip, his right hand free. He lifted his hand, brushing the tips of his white lock of hair. “No, this isn’t normal. Nor is this,” he flexed the fingers of his bionic arm, looking at it as if it were the first time.

Keith wilted. By the stars, but he was an idiot. A completely insensitive idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even though he knew it wasn’t enough.

“It’s okay,” Shiro said, even though it wasn’t.

“It’s really not,” Keith said, finally meeting Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro gave a sad smile. Slowly, he walked over to Keith until they were standing toe to toe.

“It doesn’t matter to me, not really,” Shiro said, “I guess I just felt a little out of the loop. It’s been a while since you’ve kept secrets from me.”

Keith chuckled under his breath, shaking his head a little. It felt like so long ago. It felt like yesterday.

“Next time, just give me a little warning before you try and steal my look,” Shiro chuckled, ruffling Keith’s hair.

Keith batted his hand away, but he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he said, “Technically, you stole it from me.”

Shiro smiled his soft smile, his smile from _before_.

“I suppose so.”

***

Days turned into weeks which turned into months and slowly Keith’s hair began to melt from black into white. Soon only the tips of his hair were black as if he’d dunked them in ink. His eyebrows and eyelashes had long since lost their tint, becoming translucent in the bright lights of the ship. No one said anything about it. Not even Lance. Which was… strange.

When his roots first started to grow out, Keith had expected Lance to jump at the chance to mock him, to start coming up with cruel nicknames just like those other kids did so many years before. But he didn’t. It was the complete opposite in fact. It was almost like he was ignoring it, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Keith’s hair had turned snow white.

Keith wondered about it now as he sat in his room, the lights low, flicking his dagger between his fingers. He refused to look in the mirror these days, refused to watch as the last remaining speckles of black stubbornly clung to the tips of his hair. He hadn’t seen this side of himself in over six years.

Six years.

It felt like a lifetime.

Suddenly, the sliding doors opened, bringing in light from the hallway. A thin figure stood in the doorway.

“Lights on,” Keith said. The ship reacted immediately, causing Keith’s room to flood with light. Keith looked at the doorway again. It was Lance.

“Hey! Give a guy some warning!” Lance said, shading his eyes from the light.

“Sorry,” Keith said. He sat up a little straighter, tucking his legs underneath him so he was cross-legged.

This was weird. No one ever came into his room, unless Coran needed something. Not even Shiro had set a foot in here.

Lance lowered his hand. He squinted, his eyes eventually adjusting to the bright light. “It’s fine, I guess.” A pause, then, “Can I come in?”

Keith shrugged. He couldn’t really say no, could he?

“Sure.”

Lance stepped through the doorway, the sliding doors closing behind him with a quiet _whoosh_.

Lance looked around the room. His face scrunched up in confusion. “This is your room?”

Keith looked around. He spotted his leather jacket up on the hook where he’d left it, his shoes placed neatly underneath it. Looked about right.

“Yeah?”

Lance scratched his head. “But it’s so –”

“So what?”

“So empty,” Lance said, meeting Keith’s eye.

“Well, yeah,” Keith said. “It’s a room.”

“Exactly,” Lance said.

“Exactly?”

“Yeah, exactly, as in, it’s your room. You can personalise it.”

Keith arched a quizzical brow. “Personalise?”

“Yeah, you know,” Lance said, turning on the spot. “Splash a few posters here, add a shelf with some doo-dads over there. Just,” he stopped, meeting Keith’s eye again. “Make it your own.”

Keith slumped back against his headboard. “Why would I do that?”

Lance gaped. “Because this is our home now. Don’t you want it to feel more, I don’t know, homey?”

Keith snorted. “‘Homey’? Is that even a word?”

“Yes, actually, it is,” Lance said, cocking a hip. “You can look it up.”

Keith raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Lance smiled, satisfied.

They still had their apparent rivalry going, why, Keith didn’t know. He hardly knew Lance back in the Garrison, only ever hearing his name once or twice when people mentioned some boys trying to sneak back into their dorm rooms after a night of partying. Keith now knew that it was Hunk and Lance, Hunk most likely tagging along because Lance pressured him into coming with. Keith shook his head at the thought, hiding a fond smile.

Honestly, he was getting tired of the rivalry. If anything, he wanted to call a truce, say enough is enough, _can’t we be friends? Can't I get to know you a little better? Can't we talk without me having to put my walls up?_

Keith scoffed at himself. Ridiculous.

“So,” Lance said, interrupting the silence.

“So,” Keith said, not knowing what else to say.

Lance swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet. He looked like a little kid who was about to admit to something.

“So,” Lance said again.

“Lance,” Keith sighed, “why are you here?”

Lance came to a standstill. He averted his eyes. “Well, I know that, well, like, um –”

Keith titled his head, really looking at Lance. Was Lance… flustered? From this distance, he couldn’t tell if Lance’s cheeks were flushed, but the stammering was new. Lance wasn’t one to mince his words.

“Lance,” Keith said. “Breathe.”

Lance stopped his stammering and took a deep breath.

“So your hair is white,” he said suddenly although it was so rushed it sounded more like, _soyerhairizwyte._

Keith twirled a lock of hair around his finger, inspecting the tips. “Yeah, last I checked.”

“How long –”

“Since I was little,” Keith said. He let go of his hair, picking up his dagger instead. He needed to do something with hands, otherwise, he was going to feel even more awkward than he already he was. “When I was born, the doctors thought I had albinism, but after a few tests, they found that that wasn’t the case. There have literally been no cases like mine before, ever. Like, people can be born with, like, a small patch of white hair or they can be full on albino but…”

Keith tapered off. Since he could remember he’s been an enigma. Then the whole Galra heritage bomb went off, adding another layer of indefinite to the never-ending questions whizzing at the back of Keith’s mind. It’s what kept him up at night. It was what invaded his dreams. Sometimes, in the really bad ones, his skin would begin to morph, shed away until a layer of deep purple was visible. His ears would elongate, his eyes drain of all colour until they turned a bright neon yellow. He’d scream and claw at his skin, tugging at his hair, yelling for someone to help, to do something. But there was nothing to be done. It was out of his hands. After those kinds of dreams, he’d wake up shivering, his shirt plastered to his back with sweat. He’d told Shiro about the dreams, Shiro couldn't miss the purple bags under Keith's eyes, but Keith refused to discuss them with him. There was no point. There was nothing to be done.

“Keith?”

Keith blinked, shook his head. A flash of white dashed across his vision as his fringe came loose from his hair tie. No matter how high he tied his hair, his fringe always managed to escape. It was a nuisance on a good day, but he refused to cut it. Maybe it was the rebel in him, maybe it was because he liked that his hair irritated Lance.

“I’m fine,” Keith said, taking a moment to steady himself before meeting Lance’s eyes.

“You’re not, but I’ll let that one slide,” Lance said, giving a reassuring smile. “’Cause I’m feeling extra nice today.”

Keith scoffed, a small laugh bubbling at the back of his throat. “You? Nice?”

“Hey! I can be nice!” Lance said, pouting.

Keith nodded, “Yeah. You can.” He meant it.

Lance scrutinised Keith for a moment, trying to find the lie in his words. He must have realised there wasn’t one because he relaxed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

“Anyway,” Lance said, “I came to give you this.” He dug something out of his dressing gown pocket and chucked it onto Keith’s bed.

Keith reached for it, uncovering it from the folds of his sheets. It was small, circular. It looked like a pearl, shining opalescent in the light. There was a small cap at the top though. When Keith took it off he found a nozzle, almost like a spray can.

“What –”

“It’s hair dye, or well, as close to hair dye as I could find,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck. He was looking anywhere but at Keith.

“How?” Keith said, turning the bottle over in his hands.

“The last planet we visited, I was looking for some moisturizer and I came across this little thing,” he indicated the bottle in Keith’s hand. “The guy, at least, I think it was a guy, at the counter said it was a colourant, ‘for all fur types!’” Lance used an exaggerated voice, like a radio talk show host.

“Does it work?” Keith asked, fingering the nozzle. It looked simple enough, just press down and spray, he supposed.

“He showed me and yeah, it really does. You spray it and it immediately clings to your hair. It, like, shoots up to your roots. So, the bottle should last a while,” Lance said. He placed his hands on his hips, a satisfied smile on his face.

Keith didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

“Lance, I –”

“No need to thank me, Mullet,” Lance said, all smug smiles and nonchalance. “I don’t know if it’ll work on human hair, to be honest. But, it’s worth a shot, right?”

Keith nodded, still a little dumbfounded. Lance had bought him hair dye.

Keith mumbled, barely audible.

“Sorry?” Lance said, taking a step closer.

“Thank you,” Keith said, looking up at Lance.

Lance blinked. “I told you, it’s no problem.”

“Thank you,” Keith said again because he could.

Lance ducked his head. “You’re welcome,” he whispered.

They both went silent. Keith waited for it to become awkward, only it didn’t.

After a little while, Lance cleared his throat. “I, uh, I best get going.”

“Right,” Keith said. He stood up and walked Lance to the door, hair dye still in hand. The bottle was smooth to the touch. Keith made sure to keep a tight grip so it didn’t fall.

“Well,” Lance said, coming to a stop at Keith’s doorway.

“Well,” Keith said.

“I hope it works,” Lance said, biting his lip. He looked unsure of himself, a little awkward. All of his usual swagger was gone. It was so unlike any of those times he flirted with the aliens they met.

 _Probably because he isn’t flirting with you_ , Keith chastised himself.

“Anyway, I guess I’ll,” Lance gestured to the door which slid open as he took a step towards it.

“Right,” Keith said, staying where he was.

Lance paused, looking back over his shoulder at Keith. He gave a small smile before walking down the hall, the sliding doors closing behind him.

Keith stood at his door for what felt like Vargas afterwards, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

 _Lance bought me hair dye,_ he thought, over and over again.

It wasn’t a big deal, it wasn’t like Lance had bought him some massive expensive present. But still…

Keith chucked the bottle up, catching it deftly in his hand again.

“Guess we better put you to the test.”

***

“Lance! LANCE!”

Lance turned to the common room entrance in time to spot Keith stomp through the doorway. At least, he thought it was Keith.

Hunk burst out laughing, Pidge cackling alongside him. “BAHAHAHA! Keith! Wha-what hap-happened to your h-head?” Pidge gasped between laughs.

Keith lifted the small bottle of hair dye Lance had given him, pointing at Lance with his free hand. “He happened,” he growled.

Lance raised his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I didn’t say it was going to work!”

“Oh no, it worked perfectly! Like a charm!” Keith said, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. He tugged at a strand of hair, “I’ve washed my hair five times. _Five times_ Lance, and not a drop of it is coming out!”

Lance shrugged. “I told you it was long-lasting. That’s the beauty of it, or so the salesman said.”

Keith threw his hands up in frustration. “Great. This is fantastic!” he yelled at no one in particular.

“Well,” Pidge said, having recovered themselves slightly, “I will admit, pink really does suit you!” They burst into another round of giggles, clutching their stomach. Hunk wiped a tear from his eye. “Yeah man, it’s really your colour. Although, I wouldn’t wear it with the jacket. They sort of c-clash!”

Hunk and Pidge dissolved into a pile of giggles and laughter, much to Lance’s amusement and Keith’s irritation.

“This is not funny!” Keith said, cradling his head in his hands.

“Oh, it really is!” Pidge yelled in glee.

Lance stood up from the couch, walking over to Keith. He clapped Keith on the shoulder.

“Listen, man, I’m really sorry. I should have checked what colour it was before buying it.”

“You think?” Keith said, his voice muffled behind his hands.

Lance felt his smile drop from his face. Keith’s shoulders were hunched forward, shaking a little. Lance rubbed soothing circles onto Keith’s back.

“Well, I don’t know if it helps but, I like it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Keith said, looking up at Lance. His hair was still damp from the shower, the tips beginning to curl. A few wisps were plastered to his cheeks, begging to be tucked behind his ear and oh man, did Lance want to oblige. Even Keith’s eyelashes were tinted a dusty rose.

Lance dropped his hand quickly, tucking it into his jeans pocket. “No, I’m serious. I, ahem,” he coughed, muttering, “I really like it.”

Keith froze.

“You do?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah man,” Lance said, meeting Keith’s eyes. The soft pink was contrasting with his eyes, making the purple of his irises stand out ten-fold.

A soft blush crept up Keith's neck, turning his ears as pink as his hair.

“Uh, thanks.”

The doors whooshed open behind them, causing both Lance and Keith to startle. Shiro, Allura and Coran entered the common room, chatting amongst themselves. They all came to an abrupt stop when they saw Keith’s hair.

Shiro’s jaw dropped to the floor while Allura brought a hand up to smother her giggles. Coran appeared unfazed, however, continuing to read out tasks Allura was probably supposed to be listening to instead of laughing at Keith.

Keith crossed his arms, shrinking into himself. It was a habit Lance had picked up on over the last few months. Keith was embarrassed.

Lance plucked the bottle out of Keith’s hand and, before he could think twice about it, sprayed the dye all over his head. He was so going to regret this tomorrow morning.

“Lance!” Keith said, grabbing the bottle back. His eyes were wide with shock, lips parted. “Why did you do that?”

Lance shrugged. He could feel the dye slowly crawling up to his roots, settling in. It made him shiver a little.

“It’s my fault your hair turned pink. So, I might as well bear the burden as well.”

Keith shook his head, although there was a small smile playing on his lips. It almost looked fond.

“You’re taking this rivalry thing to a whole new level.”

“What do you mean?” Lance said, cocking a hip.

“Well, obviously, I look better with pink hair,” Keith said, giving a smug grin.

“Excuse you!” Lance said in mock horror, “I happen to look fantastic in pink!”

Keith chuckled. “Yeah, okay Lance.”

Lance chuckled along with him. It was worth dying his hair maybe-permanently if he could make Keith smile; if he could make him laugh like that. It was so, so worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go check out the amazing artworks of **@rixlanter** on Tumblr, whose beautiful Keith portraits helped inspire this piece! Link below:
> 
> http://rixlanter.tumblr.com/post/163727945370/attempt-number-two-cause-i-feel-really-strongly
> 
>  
> 
> And don't be afraid to hmu on Tumblr @subtlehysteria, it's mainly Voltron and Klance stuff because I'm a Voltron nerd ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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